Cum Magicae Potest Non Curare
by DarkandtwistyGirl
Summary: Post Deathly Hallows. It was supposed to be a joyous time in the lives of Harry Potter and his fiancé, Ginny, but as they celebrate their best friends' wedding the young couple's lives are shattered by an unforeseeable turn in events. Follow their journey as Harry fights for his life, and his magic. Cancer fic
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Welcome to Cum Magicae Potest Non Curare readers! This is the rewritten version of an earlier fic of mine, A Different Kind Of Battle. After a rather long hiatus, I think it is finally ready for public consumption :)**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter One**

4:40pm June 25th, 2000

Looking out across The Burrow on that perfect and cloudless Sunday afternoon, watching as scores of wizarding folk arrived to celebrate the wedding of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, one could be forgiven for not realising that only two years ago the wedding party had been neck deep in a violent war. Still everyone attending the event had been affected by the wizarding world's second war in one way or another.

If you looked closely the scars left behind by the war were always present. The war had irrevocably changed the wizarding world, and everyone within it.

In some cases people had changed for the better, however the greater majority still bore physical and emotional scars left behind long after Lord Voldemort's downfall at the hand of then seventeen year old Harry Potter.

Yet as the nominated time for the ceremony approached, the Weasleys, the Grangers, and their mutual friend, Harry Potter were just like anyone would be as they made last minute preparations for the nuptials.

For too many years the family's home had seen immeasurable pain, grief, and suffering; it made a nice change of pace for The Burrow to be once again filled with excitement and activity, it almost felt as it did before.

Being the parents of the groom (and hosts to what had become a rather large affair) Molly and Arthur hurried about putting the final touches on the massive white marquee and surrounding gardens, putting each of their youngest son's three eldest brothers to work on this task and that. Meanwhile the bride and groom were upstairs readying themselves and their bridesmaids/groomsmen.

* * *

All of the women had gathered in Ginny's bedroom to dress and prepare. Though it was to be a traditional wizarding ceremony, Hermione had chosen a muggle wedding gown; a tasteful, yet modern one of a kind creation made by a highly regarded British designer.

The ivory gown clung perfectly to Hermione's curves, gently tapering outwards at the beaded hem to form the skirt, while a layer of intricate lace lay over the bodice, extending down to Hermione's elbows to complete the dress.

Gathered around the room were those women closest to Hermione - her mother, Emily, her best friend - and maid of honour - Ginny Weasley, and two of her close friends - both bridesmaids - Luna Lovegood and Strella Caviscone; the latter a colleague from the ministry.

While the bridesmaids had donned their matching dark violet gowns, Hermione's mother was adjusting her set of mauve dress robes (a compromise). In desperation she called across the room to her daughter, "Darling, please how is this supposed to go?"

From where Hermione sat while Strella styled her hair, the muggleborn witch motioned for Luna and Ginny to help her mother, who was struggling hopelessly with the unfamiliar garment.

In the moment of relative quiet, Hermione turned to her friend, but her thoughts were not on her stunning appearance, but rather the risk which to that day gathering such a crowd of 'light' supporters held. "Did you check with Bill Weasley that the wards are strong? I probably still have time to place that new ward I read about last night; it would only take an hour-"

"Hermione, calm down. Every safety precaution has been taken, so please relax and let yourself be happy, this is your day. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise," Strella declared, as with a final flourish of her wand, she finished Hermione's hairstyle.

"Strella's right, Hermione," Ginny added from where she was admiring her own handiwork - untangling, and redressing Mrs Granger in the dress robes she was to wear, "Everything is perfect, all you need to do is come downstairs-" Ginny paused, smirking wickedly, "That is unless you have decided against marrying my idiot brother."

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Don't worry, I wouldn't deprive you of your chance to walk up the aisle with Harry."

* * *

Two floors above the girls' dressing room, Ron was pacing anxiously, as his best man, Harry Potter, and groomsmen, Neville Longbottom and George Weasley stood patiently to the side of the cramped attic room.

Suits may not have been all that different to dress robes, but you wouldn't have known that given the chaotic scene as Ron Weasley, and his groomsmen were dressing.

Harry - being the only muggle-raised person in the room - was doing his best to explain how to tie ties, and affix cuff links, however even his usually unshakable patience was wearing thin. For the past three weeks Harry had been struggling to shake off a nasty flu, which had been plaguing him. Between that, and Ron's increasing wedding jitters, for Harry this day was looking less and less like a celebration, and an increasingly tedious chore.

Still, it was Harry's duty as Ron's best man to get his best friend to the altar, and he was going to do so, even if it was the last thing he did.

"...must be completely off my rocker," Ron was muttering to Harry, pacing his bedroom anxiously. "Remember when we met her? We thought she was a lunatic, and now I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her."

Yes, at first Ron and Hermione had been like fire and water, in many ways they still were, that's ultimately what made each of them perfect for the other. And that is precisely what Harry reminded Ron of, until the groom-to-be finally settled, at least for a few minutes.

* * *

5:01pm June 25th, 2000

The exquisitely decorated marquee was packed with the young couple's friends and family. Almost everyone they knew had come to the wedding, their work colleagues, old school friends, members of the Order of the Phoenix and of Dumbledore's Army, along with their supporters, and many of their old Hogwarts teachers.

For the most part the excitement at regaining their freedom had worn off, but the role that Ron and Hermione had played in finally killing the dark lord - who had been responsible for causing such devastation - had caused quite the media sensation, and as such the couple became as famous as 'the-boy-who-lived' in their own regard. As such their wedding had become quite symbolic of the safer times the wizarding world now looked forward to.

A charmed harp began to play as Hermione stepped up to walk down the aisle, following the bridal procession, her hand firmly held by her father.

Hermione looked positively radiant as she glided down the aisle, her elegant gown flowing into a delicately beaded and embroidered train that ran for nearly ten feet behind her. Any fear or doubt in her mind dissipated as she lay eyes on her soon to be husband standing at the altar.

Mr Granger went through the motions of giving away his only daughter, then stepped away to take his seat in the front row beside his already tearful wife. They were to be the only members of Hermione's family to attend, as she had wanted a wizarding ceremony, and in her family only her parents knew that Hermione was magical.

Handing her bouquet to Ginny, Hermione took the final step to face Ron.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful, and brave souls..." And so the ceremony began.

The wizard presiding over the ceremony followed the usual wizarding wedding vows, though he would slip in rather blatant reminders to the gathering of how the young couple had fought alongside their friends against Lord Voldemort.

"...Then I declare you bonded for life."

* * *

As Ron and Hermione shared their first kiss as husband and wife, and the guests rose to their feet, applauding, the marquee instantly transformed into a setting suitable to host the reception dinner.

If anything, as the reception got into full swing even more guests arrived, filling the tent to capacity. No one minded though.

In the post war wizarding world such gatherings were rare, and mainly for that reason the reception more resembled a reunion, friends both young and old gathered together.

In the back corner of the marquee sat Harry - he didn't know anymore if he was trying to be inconspicuous, or just was too fatigued to move. At the end of the day though, he was Harry Potter, and people would always gravitate towards him.

Once Ron and Hermione had adjourned from the party for their week long honeymoon in France, the guests slowly broke away - going home.

The sun dipped low in the sky, and only a couple of dozen guests remained, as the one person whom Harry had been expecting to be cornered by finally approached him - his former professor, a member of the Order, and Hogwarts School's latest headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

The two of them had been exchanging frequent owls for several weeks.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Harry greeted her politely.

"And to you, Mr Potter. I don't suppose you have your decision for me?"

The decision which Professor McGonagall spoke of was in fact a job offer; Harry had been asked to return to Hogwarts in the coming year as a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It had been decided between the Minister of Magic and the headmistress that an auror's presence would help ensure the ongoing safety at the school, and thus convince nervous parents that it was safe to send their kids away to school.

And, even now - probably due to the fates of their predecessors - no teacher would agree to stay on for more than one year.

"I have. I look forward to seeing you in September."

Minerva let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. "Thank you."

"Though," Harry said, "I'll be lucky if I make it through the year, the position never ended well for any teacher as long as I attended, and as I understand it, for some time before that." A mischievous smile graced Harry's features, "You know that many believe the position to be cursed?"

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

**So there you have it folks, the first chapter done. I know right now it is very similar to the original, but from the next chapter on there will be several important changes, so sit back and settle in for the ride.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Thank you to each and every person who has read, put on alerts, favorited, or reviewed this fic so far!**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Two **

Previously: A mischievous smile graced Harry's features, "You know that many believe the position to be cursed?"

* * *

Looking up to meet his former professor's eye, expecting that even she would see the intended humour in his comment, Harry was surprised to see Minerva's eyes widening in fear.

But Harry never got the chance to ask her what was so worrisome, vaguely Harry became aware of the distinctive coppery taste of blood dripping down the back of his throat, and McGonagall calling for help. The world around him seemed to be spinning, and then Harry could feel himself falling.

Someone in the crowd was screaming, that was the last thing Harry could sense before the darkness consumed him completely.

* * *

Unaware of the unfolding drama at the reception in the garden, Ginny Weasley was in the house, assisting her mother in beginning the massive clean up task - though the party hadn't even finished yet.

Then her two eldest brothers came into the house, carrying a bloodied and unconscious Harry between them, with McGonagall following close at their heels, and in an instant Ginny's cheerful mood evaporated, her life forever changed. She ran to her fiancé's side, as Bill and Charlie lay Harry on the couch. Fleur - balancing her infant daughter on her hip - was already on a floo call to St Mungo's emergency healing team.

"He's covered in blood. What the hell happened? Bill? Charlie? What happened to him? Was there an attack?" Ginny asked worriedly, dropping to her knees beside the couch. Out of habit she began rhythmically brushing Harry's ebony hair away from his face, watching over him intently.

"We don't know really, that's why I asked Fleur to call St Mungo's," Bill explained to his sister, trying to seem calm, but as the sound of Harry's rasping breaths filled the air, no one could feel at ease. "Professor McGonagall could only tell us that they had been talking, Harry had a nose bleed, and then went down."

Ginny then found herself being forced away from Harry's unconscious form by a small group of witches and wizards in lime green robes - healers.

A middle-aged witch, clearly the leader of the emergency response team, cast a standard diagnostic spell over Harry. As she studied the scroll of information which had shot from the tip of her wand, the healer's brow became furrowed.

This was a most unusual reading, particularly in an adult wizard.

"What is it? Tell me!" Ginny demanded, struggling against her father, who was holding her out of the healers' ways.

Another healer looked to Molly Weasley. "It might be best if you could all wait in another room. Healer DuPont will come speak with you when we've stabilised Mr Potter." The majority of the assembled group headed silently to the kitchen, but Ginny wasn't going to abandon Harry.

"Come on Ginny, come in to the kitchen," Molly cajoled her daughter gently, but Ginny had her heels dug in.

"Like hell! I'm not leaving Harry."

Under normal circumstances Molly Weasley would have forced the issue, but she knew a lost battle when she saw one. So, accepting the defeat, Mrs Weasley moved to her daughter's side, taking a comforting hold of her hand. "Alright Ginny, but you need to let the healers work."

The mother and daughter watched in silence as the healers spent the next fifteen minutes casting spell after spell, and trying numerous potions, with no apparent change in Harry's condition. Finally, healer DuPont conjured several items which were unfamiliar to the Weasley women; a rubber tube with a small balloon at one end, a plastic syringe, and what looked like a couple of muggle tampons.

Healer DuPont turned to Ginny, explaining, "We aren't able to heal Mr Potter magically, I am going to try a technique that muggles use in these situations."

"What? Why?" Molly became slightly panicked at the mention of muggle medical treatment, while Ginny found herself drawn to the equipment, trying to understand how those things could help her unconscious fiancé.

"How does it work?"

"This?" Healer DuPont motioned to the conjured items, "We'll put this tube into the very back of Mr Potter's nose, then once we inflate the attached tube, that should put enough pressure on the source of this bleed to stop it. Then I'll need to put packing into his nose to manage any residual bleeding," Healer DuPont was already partway through the process, when she finished answering Ginny's question. The healer continued to speak to Ginny as she worked. "Once this is in place, I am going to ask you to portkey with Mr Potter to a muggle medical facility, St Luke the Evangelist Hospital in London. The portkey will take you to a room adjoining the office of a doctor we often send people in Harry's condition to, Henry Alonstone - he is a wizard, but he works at this muggle hospital. I will contact him before you leave, and he will be expecting you."

Ginny was shaken to hear confirmation that whatever had caused Harry to fall ill was not treatable by magical means; which naturally for the pureblood witch was a very intimidating thought. "I don't understand why he can't go to St Mungo's. Why didn't healing help him?"

"Dr Alonstone will be able to explain everything fully; I would, but Mr Potter is in a serious condition, and requires immediate treatment."

Now finished packing Harry's nose to stem the bleeding, Healer DuPont administered one more potion - a revival draught - to bring Harry back to consciousness, before taking an empty vial from her bag, and using it to form a portkey, which she handed to Ginny. "Once both you and Mr Potter are touching the portkey it will activate. I'll ask you just to wait one minute, until Mr Potter is awake, and I have contacted Dr Alonstone, please. You may sit with Mr Potter if you wish."

Hearing those words of permission, Ginny all but bolted to her fiancé's side.

Harry's eyelids were fluttering, he was starting to come around. Alarmed as she was by the sheer volume of blood all over the front of Harry's suit, and his face, Ginny took Harry's hand in hers, brown eyes meeting green.

"He'll be quite weak," Healer DuPont warned Ginny gently.

Ginny nodded slightly in acknowledgement, never breaking eye contact with Harry - who though more or less unable to do more than lie there, had woken up.

* * *

Harry knew he must have blacked out, as he could now feel that he was lying down, probably on a couch.

At least someone had thought to leave his glasses in place, so as he opened his eyes Harry could easily see his surroundings.

The room he recognised as the living room of The Burrow. Ginny was leaning over him, several unfamiliar healers standing nearby. The healers wore similarly grim expressions. Harry focused his gaze on Ginny, ignoring the older wizards as much as possible. "Ginny, what's going on? Did something happen at the wedding? Were we attacked?" Harry was searching for the memory that would make sense of all this, but the last thing he remembered was talking with Professor McGonagall. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Harry," Ginny replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You collapsed at the reception. The healers from St Mungo's are here, they're taking good care of you."

"Good care...? What happened to me, Gin?"

"Please, Harry," Ginny pleaded as fresh tears sprung to her eyes. This scared Harry more than anything else, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Ginny cry in the many years he'd known her.

One of the things that most attracted Harry to Ginny was just how well she always seemed to hold things together in a crisis.

If Ginny was crying, something was gravely wrong.

But Harry had no chance to ask further questions, as one of the healers spoke, something about a portkey being ready. Then wordlessly Ginny pressed something cold into his free hand, and Harry instantly felt the uncomfortable pull of the portkey.

* * *

7:40pm June 25th, 2000

The young couple arrived in a sparse room, only decorated by the presence of a dark timber door in one wall. While Ginny landed on her feet, Harry really didn't stand a chance at such a gracefully landing - instead he fell flat on his back, gaining even more bruises to add to his current collection. There was no chance for discussion, as an elderly doctor and only marginally younger woman entered the room. It seemed that they had indeed been awaiting Harry and Ginny's arrival.

The woman pushed a wheelchair over to where Harry lay, while the kindly doctor made the introductions. "Mr Potter, pleasure to meet you son. Welcome to St Luke's; just so that you know we are on the eighth floor, which is the haematology and oncology unit. I'm Dr Alonstone, this is my secretary, Petra Macmillan. And who might your companion be?" Ginny offered her hand to Dr Alonstone, introducing herself, "Ginny Weasley, Harry's fiancé."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley." Dr Alonstone drew his wand, startling Harry, but no one else reacted, as the doctor explained, "Please relax Mr Potter, I thought you might need some assistance getting into the wheelchair," Saying no more, the doctor/wizard gently levitated Harry off of the floor, an positioned him in the waiting wheelchair. "Oh, and just for the record, this is a muggle hospital. If anyone besides myself or Ms Macmillan are present please refrain from revealing your 'gifts'. Now, why don't we move this conversation to my office, I think you will find that it is much more comfortable."

* * *

7:45pm June 25th, 2000

The consultation room within Dr Alonstone's office was large, and masculinely decorated with dark timbers and expensive leather.

On one wall hung at least two dozen framed certificates, on another was a bookshelf holding a vast collection of medical textbooks, and the window behind the consultant's desk looked out over the darkened London cityscape.

Dr Alonstone sat behind his desk, and Harry and Ginny sat across from him in the spacious office, the doctor flicked through the thin patient file in his hands.

"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Ginny said, breaking the brief silence that had fallen over the room.

"No trouble at all," The consultant replied cordially. "I have been in contact with the healer you saw, Mr Potter, and I agree that we need to admit you tonight, looking to begin treatment as soon as possible. The potions that she gave you have stabilised you for now, but that will not last I'm afraid."

Still in quite a deal of shock, Harry remained silent. From where she sat at Harry's side, Ginny spoke to the doctor, "Okay, so what do we need to do?"

"Firstly, I'd like to get a bit of information on Harry's medical history. Any past injury or illness? Don't worry if it's our sort of unusual, I've yet to find something that couldn't be noted as a more 'muggle' issue."

"Well," Again Ginny spoke, "Harry's never really been sick. Except for what happened when he was a baby; you'd know about that, wouldn't you?"

"I do. Has there been anything else?"

"Nothing permanent," Harry said abruptly. "I'm an auror, so I've had a few scrapes-" Ginny choked back a sarcastic comment - there had been more than 'a few scrapes', but as nothing had caused any ongoing problems, so she let it slide. They had far more important issues to address.

"Very well," Dr Alonstone commented, making a couple of notes in the file. "Now, Harry have you noticed any more recent issues? Tiredness, frequent infections, bone and/or joint pain, bruising more easily than usual, recent unintentional weight loss, anything like that."

"Yes," Harry replied simply. He had experienced in the last few weeks all of the symptoms stated.

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"That means, Miss- Well it goes toward confirming our suspicions given the results of the diagnostic spells," Dr Alonstone explained. "Unfortunately, in order to manage Harry's illness, we must first make a definitive diagnosis. That will also give us a better idea of what stage Harry's condition currently is at, and how well he responds to the treatment." "What do you have to do- How do muggles diagnose things like this? Hell, I don't even know what 'this' is." Being from a pure-blood family, Ginny was at a disadvantage - she knew nothing about muggle medicine.

"Currently Mr Potter's blood is unable to clot adequately, the diagnostic spells also revealed a number of concerning abnormalities in his blood. The information we have available to us at this stage is suggestive of some form of haematological disorder or malignancy."

Subtly Harry - knowing a bit more about what might be involved - took a reassuring hold of his fiancé's hand. "You think I have cancer?"

"It is a distinct possibility," Dr Alonstone answered sympathetically. "I am going to call a nurse in now; they will take you to the ward, and draw a blood sample. After I see the results of that test, it's likely that I will decide to give you a transfusion of donated blood, probably platelets - the part of the blood which allows it to clot - as well. While this is happening, I will sort out the paperwork for your admission, Mr Potter. We will leave the packing in your nose for at least a day; I understand that it likely is uncomfortable, however we truthfully cannot risk another bleed at this stage, it could put you life in danger. I will come see you on the ward once your settled to explain my plan for your care."

* * *

8:20pm June 25th, 2000

"Are you sure that it's supposed to go this way, Harry?" Ginny asked uncertainly, trying to help Harry to get changed from his ruined suit into a hospital gown. The gown, made from rather thin white cotton, two sets of ties were all that were used to hold the back closed. It was far from an easy task as they had to work around the various monitoring equipment, and cannulas in the back of Harry's hand, and in the crook of his other elbow, which connected to bags of infusing blood products and fluids - something that Harry found annoying, but Ginny was completely horrified by.

"Unfortunately," Harry answered tiredly. The day's events had really taken a lot out of him, and even the basic hospital bed was looking tempting - granted Ginny had discretely put a cushioning charm on the thin mattress, so it would be better than it might have been.

"Well, I'll stop by the Manor before I come by tomorrow, get you some of your own pyjamas. The muggles won't let me stay with you, will they?"

"Probably not. We need to be careful too, talking about our world - they might think we're crazy," Harry might have said this jokingly, but they both knew it was really no joking matter.

"Yeah, right. So, what do I call them?" Ginny's tone was so serious, it was all Harry could do not to burst out laughing. Magical or not, the were all people.

The gown now sorted, Harry carefully tucked his wand away in the top drawer of the side table, and slipped into the bed. Yawning wearily, he suggested, "I'll explain it to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow," Ginny agreed. Though the stress of the day was wearing heavily on Ginny, she kept up a calm facade for Harry - she had no idea that he was just as scared as she was, as he did the same. "You should get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning. Okay?"

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Thank you to each and every person who has read, put on alerts, favorited, or reviewed this fic so far!**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Previously: "Are you sure that it's supposed to go this way, Harry?" Ginny asked uncertainly, trying to help Harry to get changed from his ruined suit into a hospital gown. The gown, made from rather thin white cotton, two sets of ties were all that were used to hold the back closed.

"Unfortunately."

* * *

8:55pm June 25th, 2000

Though technically he should have finished work nearly half an hour ago, Dr Alonstone made his way through the dimmed hallways of the haematology and oncology unit to discuss the diagnostic plan - which he had just formed - with his new young patient.

However, as Dr Alonstone looked into Harry's hospital room, and seeing Harry sleeping soundly, the monitors beeping steadily, and infusions still running, the senior physician decided that there was nothing that could not wait until morning.

* * *

8:45pm June 25th, 2000

After walking out of the hospital, Ginny apparated home to the Burrow. Barely two steps into her family home, Ginny broke down in her mother's arms.

* * *

3:30am June 26th, 2000

Anyone who has spent a night in the hospital, and been unable to sleep can tell you that it is not a pleasant experience. You're not feeling well, there are unfamiliar sounds at random intervals, and no matter your diagnosis there is a part of your mind that cannot help but dwell on all the things that could go wrong. May you might be the next person to trigger that 'code blue' call.

That was precisely how Harry was feeling as he lay awake in his hospital bed. Still receiving a blood transfusion - his sixth bag - Harry had no strength to move.

Earlier when a nurse had checked on him, she had declared that his oxygen levels were too low, and now an oxygen mask was strapped to Harry's face; it was a persistent annoyance, but far from his main thought or concern.

In a matter of hours the life that he had worked so hard to build in the aftermath of Voldemort had been ripped away.

Though there was no formal diagnosis yet, the word 'cancer' was running around and around in Harry's mind.

There was something inside his body that was silently destroying his body piece by piece, and worse still - no magic could help him.

Just hours ago, Harry had been agreeing to take a teaching position at Hogwarts... Maybe he could still do that, if McGonagall still wanted him to.

But Harry knew that if he did have cancer, then his career with the auror department was over. From what he knew, it seemed impossible that he would be capable of performing his duties in the demanding position ever again, all because of a damned nosebleed.

He couldn't even be sure that Ginny would stay with him. Did he even want her to? She had her career and her family. Was it fair to ask her to stay by his side when he might not survive?

* * *

7:05am June 26th, 2000

Having had only very little sleep, Harry was jolted into awareness when the over-bed table clanged sharply against the bed frame. The male aide responsible for the startling noise didn't spare a second thought for Harry, before continuing on to deliver the rest of the patients' breakfast trays.

Fumbling on his glasses, Harry used the automated bed controls to raise the back of the bed - a motion which consequently helped Harry to sit up.

On the table was a plastic tray, which held what Harry assumed was meant to be breakfast - even if he had felt like eating, there was little chance of him touching the lumpy off-coloured porridge. Eventually Harry decided that he probably should have something, the small cup of orange juice and slice of plain toast looked safe enough.

Half-heartedly Harry was nibbling at the toast when an attractive young nurse came into his hospital room - a single room, probably not without good reason.

"Good morning, Harry. My name's Ashley, I'll be taking care of you today," The nurse greeted him in a tone a bit too cheerful for this hour of the day. Picking up the chart from the holder at the end of Harry's bed, Ashley made a couple of notes as she spoke, "So how are you feeling today, Harry? Not very hungry I see."

"Not really."

"Is there anything else that I could get you to eat? Dr Alonstone has noted that he's worried about your weight loss."

"No thank you. That's not necessary, I just don't feel like eating right now."

"...Alright, please let me know if you change your mind. Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort?"

"No more than usual."

"Okay, and what is usual for you recently?" "It just sort of aches in my bones, my joints hurt sometimes," Harry admitted reluctantly.

"Would you like to have some panadol? It might help."

'Panadol?' Harry thought, 'Oh right, that's that pain medicine that was always lying around the Dursleys' house. Oh well, I doubt it can make anything worse.' "Okay, thank you."

"No worries, I will go get it in just a moment," Ashley replied lightly, continuing to make her notes in Harry's chart as she explained, "I understand that Dr Alonstone is handling your case personally, you really couldn't ask for better. Between you and me, I've seen his patients make recoveries that really were miraculous. Anyway, I expect that he will come by after morning rounds to discuss his plans for you. He did stop by last night, but apparently you were asleep, he didn't want to wake you."

"...They have to do more tests, right?"

"Yes," Ashley replied, trying to seem reassuring. "The doctor will be by later, and he will do his best to answer all of your questions about your care plan."

"Okay, but could you tell me?"

"It would be better if you spoke directly to the doctor," Ashley answered, purposefully vague. "I'll go get those tablets for you. Is there anything else you need?"

Harry again answered in the negative, but then as an afterthought he asked, "When are visitors allowed to come in?"

"Between ten am and eight pm, preferably no more than two visitors at any given time. But as long as it doesn't interfere with your care, we can be a bit more flexible," Ashley explained, "Who are you expecting?"

"My fiancé," Harry answered. "Maybe some of our friends."

"Okay, well I'll keep an eye out for your fiancé - she can come straight in. What's her name?"

"Ginerva Weasley ...Ginny."

The nurse hesitated, and Harry knew why - Ginerva was far from a common name in the muggle world. "...I need to check on my other patients, but I'll come back after Dr Alonstone has seen you. Press the buzzer if you need anything."

* * *

9:05am June 26th, 2000

Harry's room was Dr Alonstone's first stop after he had finished teaching rounds - which obviously Harry was not included in. Rapping his knuckles lightly on the ajar door, the specialist came into the room, pulling the door closed behind him, and sitting down beside Harry's bed.

In his hand the doctor held an assortment of informative brochures, but refrained from setting them on Harry's bedside table.

"Good morning, Mr Potter. How are you feeling this morning? Hopefully a little better than last night."

"Yes, sir. Much," Harry answered. "Oh and could you please just call me Harry?"

"Of course, Harry. It is good to hear that you're feeling better, however I think you understand that we do still need to get to the root of what made you sick in the first place. I was hoping to discuss this with you last night, but you looked like you needed the rest. Today, I will perform a couple more tests - a bone marrow aspiration, and a lumbar puncture. Harry, do you know what those procedures are?"

Harry had a vague idea, but he was far from certain. He shook his head slightly.

"That's alright. A bone marrow aspiration is where we take a sample of the marrow from your hip bone using a hollow needle, the site might feel a bit bruised afterwards, but we numb the skin first, so it won't be painful while it is being done. The lumbar puncture is to get a sample of the fluid from around your spinal cord; I know that can sound quite worrisome, but we do it very often, and the risks are minimal, though you may have a headache for a few hours. I'll also order a scan of your chest and abdomen."

"Okay," Harry replied tensely. "And after that?"

"Depending on the results of those tests, which will take up to a couple of days to come back - during which time you will remain here in hospital, so that we can monitor you - we will look at your options."

"But you have some idea of what's wrong with me, don't you? Tell me."

"You're blood tests and symptoms are highly suggestive of acute leukaemia, but that isn't certain, Harry. It may very we'll be something else. That is why these tests are so necessary."

"...Can we get started then?"

"Alrighty, I'll just need a few minutes to set up. Oh, and before I forget" Dr Alonstone dropped the stack of pamphlets that he had been holding, onto Harry's bedside, "There is some useful information in those, you should try to have a look at them over the next day or so."

* * *

True to his word, Dr Alonstone was only out of the room for five minutes, returning with Ashley, and another nurse.

Harry silently wondered why two nurses were needed, and sincerely hoped that it was not for any of the frightening scenarios forming in his mind.

"Harry, are you ready to start? I believe you know Ashley, and this is her colleague, Elaine," Dr Alonstone said in a conversational manner.

"Good morning, Harry. Lovely to meet you, I'm going to be helping Dr Alonstone with these tests, okay?" Elaine spoke comfortingly as she and Ashley arranged supplies that would be needed for the first test on the now cleared over-bed table.

"Same to you," Harry replied, purposely not looking at the instrument trays.

"I can't help than to notice that your lovely young lady friend is not here," The consultant commented, "I suppose she will come in later. How long have you been dating?"

"A couple of years, we got engaged a few months back."

"Well that is lovely. Not enough of you young folk get married these days," Elaine commented, before explaining to Harry, "You'll need to lie on your stomach for the bone marrow aspiration. I'll put the back of the bed down, then you can roll over... Don't worry, Harry, we won't do anything without telling you. Why don't you tell us a bit more about your fiancé?"

It was a distraction technique, but it worked like a charm; Harry was far too preoccupied trying to think of ways to describe Ginny, her career and hobbies without breaking the statue of secrecy to pay much attention at all as the bone marrow aspiration was completed.

"Okay, that is all done, Harry," Dr Alonstone stated, removing the needle, and quickly replacing it with a thick square of gauze. "We'll put a dressing over this, Harry. That will need to stay on for a day, and try not to get this area wet for a few days after that."

"Go ahead with that dressing, Ashley," The consultant instructed, as he gathered the various samples and pathology slides to send for testing. "We will take a rest for a few minutes, and then I will come back to perform the lumbar puncture."

* * *

A few minutes later, Harry was comfortably settled back into bed, and Ashley was going through the routine of checking his vital signs - noting each recording on his chart - when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Ashley called, expecting to see a staff member. But instead Ginny stepped into the room, quickly crossing the small room to greet Harry. Ashley quietly slipped out of the room to give her patient privacy.

Uncertain of the medical equipment, Ginny was unusually reserved, giving Harry a gentle hug, and a light peck on the lips.

"Morning, Gin," Harry said, returning her affection. He hated that he was forcing his fiancé into a situation which made her so uncomfortable.

"Good morning, Harry." Ginny set a shopping bag on Harry's bed. "I brought you some pyjamas, and all your toiletries. I wasn't sure how long you are going to be in here, I might have overpacked. If there's anything I've missed-"

"I'm sure it's fine, thanks Ginny," Harry murmured gratefully. "I didn't think you would be here until later. Did practice finish early today?"

"I didn't go to practice today, Harry."

"Why not? You could lose your place on the team."

"Harry, you collapsed, now you're in hospital - I don't know how you can even think about work at a time like this!" That was more like the Ginny that Harry knew and loved.

"Because I know that you love what you do, and I don't want you to ruin your career over me."

Before Ginny could reply however, Dr Alonstone returned to the room. Effectively ending the couple's tiff, at least for now.

Apologetically looking over to Harry, Ashley - who had come back in with the specialist - told Harry, "It's time for the next test. Ginny, you're welcome to stay, but it would be better if you discussed work matters later."

For a moment Ginny looked as though she would protest, but as Dr Alonstone began setting up the supplies for the lumbar puncture, Ginny paled slightly, and quietly took a seat at Harry's bedside.

"Are you alright, Gin?" Harry asked with concern, only to find that he wasn't fairing much better when Dr Alonstone explained the procedure, and showed him the needle that would be used - which was nearly ten centimetres long.

Ashley was at Harry's side quickly, reassuring him and Ginny.

As Harry was prepared for the procedure, again the back of the bed was lowered, but this time Harry was instructed to lie on his side, and bring his knees and chin to his chest as tightly as he could.

Ginny moved to the side of the room, as Ashley needed to assist by leaning over Harry, and supportively holding him behind his knees and neck.

As Dr Alonstone was about to begin, Ashley checked her grip - ready to restrain Harry if needed. "Harry, the needle's going in now. Stay nice and still. It'll be done soon."

Harry tensed slightly as the needle entered his back, every instinct told him to move away from it, but Ashley was kept a firm and steady hold of him.

* * *

12pm June 26th, 2000

"Here, Harry take these," Ashley - Harry's nurse - had come in, as Harry had developed a bad headache after the lumbar puncture. It was a common side effect, so there was little to be done than take a pain-reliever, and rest.

Harry took the offered tablets from Ashley, swallowing them easily. "What are those?" Ginny asked in fascination.

"Panadol, it should help with the headache," Ashley explained - not that her explanation made any sense to Ginny. "Let me know if the pain doesn't improve in the next half hour, Harry."

Once the nurse had left, Harry quietly explained, "Tablets are one of the muggle ways of taking medicine, they are used the same way we use healing potions."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Thank you to each and every person who has read, put on alerts, favorited, or reviewed this fic so far!**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Previously: "Depending on the results of those tests, which will take up to a couple of days to come back - during which time you will remain here in hospital, so that we can monitor you - we will look at your options."

"But you have some idea of what's wrong with me, don't you? Tell me?"

"You're blood tests and symptoms are highly suggestive of acute leukaemia."

* * *

4:50pm June 26th, 2000

With the last of the tests was done, and now there was nothing much for Harry nor Ginny to do until the final results came back - hopefully by late the next day. Neither member of the couple had ever handled waiting very well, particularly when something like a diagnosis of leukaemia was hanging over them.

It would take a number of hours still, before the young couple could bring themselves to discuss the reality of their situation.

* * *

6:00pm June 26th, 2000

After a very unappetising dinner provided by the hospital, Harry was lying in his bed, with Ginny nestled in his arms. Together they were attempting to read through all the information that they had been given, booklets with titles like 'Living with Leukaemia' and 'Understanding Chemotherapy'.

Detailed in the pamphlets were explanations of: the different types of leukaemia, along with their varying symptoms and prognoses - suggested ways to cope during treatment - the different types of treatment - and of course the innumerous list of potential side effects of the treatments.

As far as Harry could see he would spend at very least the next couple of months laid up, having treatments, coping with the side effects of treatment, and most likely requiring further 'supportive treatments' to counteract the undesired effects of the treatment.

Probably what would have been the most useful would have been a pamphlet on explaining cancer to pureblood witches and wizards, as Harry spent much time explaining concepts to Ginny that he knew from his early life in the muggle world. Apparently there was nothing like it, and certainly no treatment in the magical world.

"...I think you should go back to training tomorrow, Ginny," Harry commented quietly as he stuffed the booklets back onto his bedside table. "There's no reason for both of us to be stuck here for weeks."

"Harry..." Ginny said warningly.

"You're my fiancé, Gin, not my nurse," Harry said pointedly. "It might get ...bad, Ginny. Some people really get sick after having chemotherapy, if I get like that, I want the nurses to handle it." Harry's face quirked into a weary smile, as he added, "Besides, I love when you tell me your stories about life as a professional Quidditch player."

"I know you do ...I'll think about it."

* * *

7:30pm June 26th, 2000

The couple awoke to the sound of someone uncomfortably clearing their throat; they had drifted to sleep in each other's arms on the narrow hospital bed.

Harry stifled a groan, as despite the cushioning charm on his mattress, his body was aching - a seemingly inescapable pain from deep within his bones. Looking around, Harry saw that the room had become somewhat crowded while he'd been sleeping; he also noticed that it was probably getting late, as it was completely dark outside, and most of the lights on the ward had been dimmed.

A pang of embarrassment struck Harry as he realised that Ginny's parents were watching over him and Ginny - quite oblivious to the fact that they had invaded the young couple's intimate moment.

Arthur Weasley was standing by the bedside, his arm wrapped around his wife, who was sobbing quietly as she looked down at him and Ginny. George was there with his girlfriend, Angelina Johnson. As were Bill and Fleur; they had left Victorie at the Burrow with Percy.

From the muggles' perspective it had probably been quite a bizarre scene as the Weasley family walked through the hospital to visit Harry. And how could it not be?  
Even once you got past the shocking red hair that most of them had, there were still numerous noticeable peculiarities.

Mr and Mrs Weasley wore mismatched muggle clothes, trying and failing to blend in. At least the younger members of the family knew enough to dress inconspicuously.

But then there was Bill, with long gouging scars across one side of his face, accompanied by his unbelievably beautiful wife and child.

George missing an ear, and not even trying to conceal it.

But they all had one thing in common – that damned pitying expression that made Harry want to scream. They were acting as though he was dying - maybe he was, but just two days ago Harry had dismissed his symptoms as the flu.

Despite everything that Harry had already faced in life, the thought of having cancer was a difficult burden to bear.

Maybe part of him still hoped that this had all just been a terrible mistake.

Ginny promptly jumped off of the bed, and moved to stand at Harry's bedside, straightening her clothes as she did.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Bill asked, coming forward to shake Harry's hand.

"Okay, still reckon they're making this a bigger deal than it is," Harry replied, forcing a tight laugh.

"Well it's good to see you looking a bit better anyway mate," George added.

"Yes, you gave us quite ve fright, Harry."

While the Weasley clan were all focused on Harry, Angelina picked up Harry's chart from the end of his bed.

Angelina had seldom been more grateful that she had taken the advice of the St Mungo's healers in requesting to undertake her practical training at various hospitals under doctors like Henry Alonstone, magical folk living in the muggle world, as part of her practical training was set to be at St Luke's.

Angelina had discovered that she was far from being the first witch (or wizard) to undertake tertiary studies in the muggle world, and St Luke's Hospital had been the chosen site of medical training for a fair share of witches and wizards over the years; some had even remained on staff.

As soon as George had floo called her with the news, Angelina had contacted her supervisor, and talked her way into having her rotations rearranged. Knowing that ultimately she would probably take a job at the wizarding hospital, Angelina had seen little point to focusing on specialties that managed illness and injury that could be healed with spells anyway, so in her fourth year of medical school, Angelina had chosen to take elective placements in specialties where muggle methods were far more advanced than the magical equivalents - congenital ailments, oncology, haematology, and such.

With careful negotiation, Angelina had been able to swap placements with one of her classmates, and as of today she was assigned to the oncology/haematology department. A purposeful move on Angelina's part, as she wanted to help out her former teammate if she could; it wouldn't set her career back in any way, and spending weeks wearing childishly bright scrubs (which were required in the paediatrics department of Manchester Children's Hospital) didn't suit her at all.

Studying Harry's chart gave her valuable information into his condition, and plans for his care. Still it was an awkward moment when Harry noticed what she was doing. "Ang? That is supposed to be private you know."

Angelina promptly returned the chart to its proper place, explaining, "I work here." Angelina couldn't help but jokingly state the obvious.

A few looks of questioning shot in Angelina's direction.

"Medical student, remember? As of tomorrow I will be on rotation here, I thought that I might as well start a tad early. I was planning on a rotation up here anyway, just moved it forward a couple of months. Someone has to keep Harry out of trouble, Merlin knows that it somehow always finds him."

Harry really didn't have a response to that - back in their Hogwarts days he had always been the one in the thick of whatever went wrong, and things really hadn't changed much.

"So the hematologist admitted you? ...Not surprising really." Angelina picked up Harry's chart again, ignoring everyone except Harry as she looked through it with a practiced eye. "You've already had a blood transfusion, and two platelet transfusions... That's good. Blood-replenishing potions don't do much to correct any deficiencies, which you definitely have. And the consultant has done a full blood work up, a bone marrow aspiration, lumbar puncture, chest and abdominal scans."

"The doctor said something about the muggle tests showing things that the spells can't," Harry said, now  
feeling less certain of himself, thinking back to his meeting with Dr Alonstone.

"...That would make sense," Angelina replied thoughtfully. "Has he spoken with you about what he is looking for?"

"Leukaemia, or something like it."

"What's leukaemia?" Several members of the Weasley family asked almost simultaneously.

Harry could have sworn that he heard Angelina mutter something about purebloods, but then barely missing a beat, for everyone's benefit she explained, "There are many illnesses that can only effect people with a degree of non magical heritage. One of those diseases is leukaemia, an invasive disease of the blood cells. At the moment I believe that Dr Alonstone is waiting for test results to come back indicating which of several types may be effecting Harry. And the reason the healers would have sent him here, is that there are rarely magical treatments for any kind of non magical illness. Harry, it is very serious, but there are plenty of options for treatment."

Again choosing to ignore the Weasleys as they tried to understand his situation, Harry asked his former teammate, "What kind of treatments? I was reading the booklets that Dr Alonstone gave me, and they said that I would have to have chemotherapy. Is that right?"

"If you do indeed have leukaemia, the standard treatment used is a type of medication called chemotherapy, which will probably be given to you through the cannula directly into your veins, but some might be in tablet form. There is also something called radiation therapy, which I'm sure Dr Alonstone will explain if it is necessary."  
"Chemotherapy?" Harry had come across the word before, it never sounded pleasant, and the knowledge that that word was now linked to him was justifiably terrifying.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Thank you to each and every person who has read, put on alerts, favorited, or reviewed this fic so far!**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Previously: "Chemotherapy?" Harry had come across the word before, it never sounded pleasant, and the knowledge that that word was now linked to him was justifiably terrifying.

* * *

7:55am June 27th, 2000  
Ward rounds would begin in five minutes - Angelina had curtly been informed by the charge nurse. 'Oh well, that gives me a chance to check on Harry. What was the room number? Right, room nine, that should be down this way.'

Angelina slipping into the correct room, pulling the door closed behind her, quietly amused by the brief look of confusion that crossed Harry's face. "It's good to see you too, Potter."

"Oh, no I didn't- I just- What are you doing here, Ang?" Harry stammered awkwardly.

"Like I said yesterday, I'm here to keep you out of trouble," Angelina quipped lightly. "Couldn't believe it when George told me how it happened... Collapsing at the wedding of your two best friends, only you Potter. You just have to be the centre of attention, don't you?"

Harry scowled, but deep down he knew that the comment was light-hearted, teasing; Angelina had seen time and time again how hard Harry worked just to avoid the attention he got from being 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'.

Angelina checked the latest observations in Harry's chart. When questioned, she told Harry that she wanted a leg up on the other medical students at that morning's teaching rounds, which was a half truth at best. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm okay."

Angelina just looked sceptically at Harry, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Fine, I'm a bit tired, and my hip is hurting from that needle." It still wasn't the full truth, however Angelina had seen Harry hurt innumerous times, he never had been one to admit to pain.

"Do you want something for the pain?"

"It's fine."

So maybe Harry hadn't changed so much since their school days.

Their conversation came to a halt as the door swung open, and Dr Alonstone followed by a dozen junior physicians and medical students came into the room.  
Angelina adjusted her white coat over the red blouse (which effectively hid her wand in her sleeve) and black pants she wore as she went over to the consultant - who was eyeing her uncertainly. "Dr Alonstone. Angelina Johnson, fourth year med-student. I'm starting my haematology/oncology rotation," Angelina introduced herself, before glancing around to check that no one would notice her action, she subtly pulled back her sleeve, revealing her wand in it's holster to the wizard.

"...Very well," Dr Alonstone replied, offering Angelina an almost imperceptible nod to acknowledge that he recognised that she was a witch. "Seeing as you have taken the opportunity to familiarise yourself with Mr Potter's case, would you like to try presenting, Miss Johnson?"

"Thank you, sir," Angelina said in agreement, then addressed the rest of the group, "Mr Potter is a nineteen year old male, he was referred here on Sunday night after suffering a severe nose bleed. Upon examination he was pale, short of breath, experiencing joint tenderness, moderate diffuse bruising was observed, and had a low-grade fever. A recent history of frequent viral infections and weight loss was also noted. Initial blood tests were clinically indicative of a haematological disorder. He was given two units of donated platelets, and admitted for observation. A bone marrow biopsy, lumbar puncture, and abdominal and chest CT scans have been done to make a definitive diagnosis. The results are expected by this afternoon. There is also a plan to remove nasal packing that was placed on admission, today."  
"Thank you, Miss Johnson," Dr Alonstone said agreeably. "I will need to come to see Mr Potter after rounds, if you're available I think you would benefit from accompanying myself."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well then, see me after rounds. And do ensure that you do not miss the beginning of rounds in future."

* * *

8:45am June 27th, 2000  
"I apologise for being brief with you earlier, Miss Johnson. I'm sure you understand that we all must keep up appearances for the non-magical members of staff," Dr Alonstone said, as the pair returned to Harry's room a short while later. "I presume that the timing of your placement is not coincidental with Mr Potter's admission. You know each other?"

"We went to Hogwarts together, a couple of years apart," Angelina told the consultant. Moving to Harry's bedside, she greeted him casually, "Hey Harry. You don't mind if I sit in while Dr Alonstone talks to you, do you?"

"Hogwarts, oh an excellent school. I remember my own days fondly," The consultant spoke conversationally, trying to create a relaxed atmosphere. "I was in Ravenclaw myself. Which houses were each of you in?"

"We were in Gryffindor," Angelina supplied, looking to her supervisor; if they could continue the small talk it would hopefully help Harry to stay relaxed. "We were on the house Quidditch team together for a few years."

"A fantastic sport, I was a keeper on my house team for three years. I haven't made it to a game in quite some time though," Dr Alonstone commented.  
Harry was certain that they weren't here to discuss quidditch, but that did not mean that he minded the delay of what he was certain wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. "I was a seeker."

"Made the team in his first year," Angelina chipped in; Harry never gave himself enough credit.

"Very impressive," Dr Alonstone agreed. "Now, Harry... We are still waiting for final confirmation of your diagnosis, however I would like to discuss a few matters with you. Is that alright?"

Harry nodded slightly, almost reflexively.

"Alright, as we are working on a presumptive diagnosis of a form of haematological malignancy, blood cancer, there is a procedure that I am recommending for you, to facilitate whichever treatment regimen is necessary."

"What is it?"

"I would like to place a special type of cannula, called a central venous catheter - or central line - into your chest. It is. Thin tube that will go into one of the large veins in your neck, and from there we will tunnel it under your skin to a point on your upper chest, where it will sit. The purpose of the CVC in your case would be to draw blood samples, and give fluids and medications without having to stick you each time. It's advantage over a regular cannula is that we can leave it in place for a number of months, barring infection or damage. Does that sound like something you are interested in having, Harry?"

"...It sounds like it is better than the alternative. Right?"

"It is. Working on the basis that you may require long term treatment to help you, during that time your veins in your arms and legs would likely become sclerosed, scarred, and that would make it more difficult and painful to get cannulas in as time progressed. Does that make sense, Harry?"

"It does, sir. When will it happen?"

"Hopefully sometime this afternoon. We will have to take you down to the operating theatres to do it, though it is a minor procedure," Dr Alonstone paused, looking to Angelina, "Have you ever done one, Miss Johnson?"

"Many times, doctor."

"Very well, I'll ask you to do it, and I can supervise you. If that is alright, Harry?"

Harry looked to Angelina, confidently replying, "Of course."

"Okay, well now that we have that out of the way I feel that we have been using quite a few hypotheticals and speaking in terms of possibilities, and that isn't truly good practice." The consultant paused, giving Harry a moment to understand the importance of the conversation to come, and to prepare himself. "I believe that you have a form of acute leukaemia, most likely AML, acute myeloid leukaemia, and we are taking steps to prepare to treat you for that. Those plans may change of course when we have your test results. The main treatment for any form of leukaemia is to give chemotherapy, and possible radiotherapy, along with various treatments to manage any side effects you experience, as soon as possible to stop the disease from worsening, and hopefully put you into what we call remission, which is when you have very few, if any detectable abnormal cells left."

"Okay," Harry replied tensely. The very thought of putting such powerful drugs into his body made him uneasy. "And after that?"

"Once a remission of your disease is achieved, we will form a plan of treatment to maintain that remission. It is a stage called consolidation, and it will continue for a number of months. Similar to induction, we will use a combination of therapies. And if the initial treatment does not work, we may consider a bone marrow transplant. I will discuss that with you in greater detail later. Ideally that treatment will begin tomorrow if I receive the test results today," Dr Alonstone pushed the range of pamphlets across the desk to Harry. "In the mean time I suggest that you both take some time to look these over carefully. Any questions you may have, you can ask either myself or one of the ward nurses."

Harry accepted the additional pamphlets shakily.

"Before I call a nurse in, there is one more point I need to discuss with you both... It can be somewhat awkward."

"I'll be outside," Angelina said, quickly excusing herself from the room. Already knowing what would be said, and not wanting to unnecessarily embarrass Harry.

"Chemotheraputic drugs quite often effect a patient's fertility, it is probable that you will be unable to have children after treatment. I do understand that you probably haven't had a chance to discuss with Ginny whether you will want children, but I advise my male patients to consider depositing a semen sample collected and stored for future use if needed. Either way you need to decide before treatment begins. I will see you later to place the central line as we discussed."

* * *

For awhile Harry tried looking through the information that he had been given by Dr Alonstone, but reading about the various treatments, and their side effects - for which there seemed to be additional treatments - did nothing to ease his fears.

Harry was painfully aware that even if he took the treatment, there was a very real possibility that he could still die from this disease.

And try though he might, Harry couldn't forget Dr Alonstone's mention that if the chemotherapy failed, other only treatment option left might cost him his magic. And there certainly was no pamphlet to explain that.

All things considered, Harry was miserable, and treatment hadn't even started yet.

* * *

2:15pm June 27th, 2000

Though Harry couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but something about just being in an operating room - even only due to the need for a sterile area - was unsettling.

Yet there he was, lying flat on an operating table, being preparing to have a central venous catheter inserted into his chest.

The surgical nurse, Annie was tender as she meticulously arranged items around Harry, continuously talking to him, and explaining what she was doing and why, while another person - the anaesthetist, Annie told Harry - worked silently, placing Harry onto a heart monitor and a nasal oxygen cannula.

Just as Angelina and Dr Alonstone entered the room, dressed in full surgical attire, the anaesthetist said something to Harry, as he pushed a syringe full of whitish liquid into Harry's IV, and that was the last that Harry remembered of the experience.

* * *

5:30pm June 27th, 2000

When Harry woke up, he quickly realised that he was no longer in the operating room, but nor was he in his previous hospital room. The large room was very starkly decorated, white walls, a pale green vinyl floor, and only the essential furniture. It didn't even seem that the door led directly to a normal corridor.

Harry tried to get a better look around, but a sharp tug at the side of his neck stopped him.

"Harry, take it easy." Suddenly Angelina and Ginny were at his side, both dressed in full length yellow papery gowns. It was Angelina who spoke, faux frustration in her voice, "Come on, Harry. You don't want to dislodge that line, I worked hard on it."

"It's okay, Harry," Ginny said soothingly. "Everything is alright."

"Where are we?"

Again Angelina took the lead. "This is an isolation room, Harry. You will probably be staying here for the next few weeks. It helps to protect you from any infections. Alright?"

"Weeks? I can go outside through, right?" Harry felt slightly panicked. It wasn't a cupboard, but Harry could already see how this room could become another prison.  
"If we proceed with chemotherapy as expected, then no," Angelina replied bluntly, honestly.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

**Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Thank you to each and every person who has read, put on alerts, favorited, or reviewed this fic so far!**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

**Previously:** Harry was painfully aware that even if he took the treatment, there was a very real possibility that he could still die from this disease.

* * *

June 28th, 2000

The final test results were in, and it was not good news for the young auror. Their suspicions were confirmed, Harry had acute myeloid leukaemia.

Before going to break the news to his patient, Dr Alonstone made use of the seldom used Floo network connection in his office - muggle patients often would question why on earth the physician had a fireplace in his office within the hospital, to which he would just smile, and claim that it was ornamental - to contact Ginny, and allowed her to come through the connection directly from training.

Ginny was now sitting at Harry's bedside - her Quidditch robes had been left in the consultant's office, so the denim jeans and long-sleeved shirt she usually wore under her robes left her looking perfectly 'normal', if a little windswept. Together they were listening as Dr Alonstone explained the treatment regimen he had planned in detail to Harry.

"...the chemotherapy will take place in three phases. The phases are induction, then consolidation, and then maintenance. Each phase will involve different treatment regimens. Within each phase you will be given medication in cycles - each of which is twenty eight days long. That doesn't mean that through that entire time you will be receiving chemotherapy, in each cycle there is what we call a 'rest period', when we give your body time to recover from the treatment. Now, in your case I am hopeful that it will only take one cycle of chemotherapy treatment with two drugs, cytarabine and daunorubicin, to achieve remission, however there is a chance that it will take more. All of the details are written out in these-" Dr Alonstone paused to point out several new pages of information he had given Harry, "-print outs. Ideally after you have completed this stage there should be very few to no leukaemia cells evident in your bone marrow; fortunately this type of leukaemia very rarely involves the central nervous system. When no leukaemia cells are detectable we consider that to be 'remission' of your disease. You will probably need to remain in hospital for at least four weeks, because during this phase most patients require frequent monitoring and supportive treatments. Are you keeping up so far? I know that it is a lot of information to take in."

"I'm fine," Harry replied. "Gin?"

Ginny was already lost and confused, not that she would show it in front of Harry. "It's fine, please continue."

"Very well. Once remission is achieved, we will move on to the second phase of chemotherapy, consolidation. This is to given to increase the likelihood that any remaining leukaemia cells are destroyed before they can cause you any problems. During this phase you will be given higher doses of the cytarabine over several months, however you probably will be able to be at home between cycles if you are well enough. And finally, once we can be relatively confident that you are in stable and complete remission, you will move on to the third phase, maintenance. During this phase, which continues for approximately two years, I will see you at fortnightly intervals, and we will monitor you closely for signs of relapse. There is some debate about continuing low dose chemotherapy through this time, however it doesn't tend to change the outcome, and there's no point in making you feel unwell if we don't need to now, is there?" The specialist finished rhetorically. "During each of these phases you will need to have regular - weekly to monthly - blood tests, bone marrow aspirations and/or biopsies, and lumbar punctures to monitor your condition; the treatment may need to be changed depending on these test results. Particularly during the induction and consolidation phases there are potential side effects that you may experience with this chemotherapy regimen," He paused again to point out another series of printed pages that he had brought with him, "Each of these is explained in detail here. If you have any questions, please ask myself or one of the nurses. "The consultant paused, breaking away from his usual speech, "Also, as a wizard, your ability and strength to perform spellwork might be temporarily reduced due to the leukaemia. You might have already noticed this issue."

"...I thought I was just overdoing things," Harry said quietly. "It will get better though, won't it?"

"It should, Harry," Dr Alonstone replied reassuringly; even through the doctor only used magic infrequently these days, he still understood its importance to his patient. "We cannot be certain of how the treatment will affect your abilities, however there has been no recorded case where a witch or wizard's full magical ability didn't return after successfully completing chemotheraputic treatment."

For several minutes a pensive silence fell over the hospital room, as Harry and Ginny mulled over the massive load of information they had just received.  
"So, how likely is it that Harry does all this, and it doesn't work?" Ginny asked, finally breaking the silence.

Dr Alonstone sighed deeply. The fact was that the statistics were not great, but if anything Harry's chance at survival worsened by stating that. "...AML does have a decent rate of remission. However a relapse of the disease may occur, but if that should happen while we still have other options for treatment - including radiotherapy and bone marrow transplantation, the survival rates are lower. For now it is probably best that we focus on attaining that remission, that will give us a much better idea of the overall prognosis."

* * *

Try as he might've, as the consultant walked away, Harry simply could not find sufficient words to comfort his fiancé (or himself, for that matter).

It was all Harry could do to hold Ginny, and allow her to let down the iron-clad walls she usually held in place around herself.

Harry didn't think he'd ever heard someone cry so hard, especially not for him. Nothing even came close.

How was Harry supposed to reassure Ginny that he would be survive this battle, when he himself didn't truly believe it?

* * *

7:30am June 29th, 2000

Another night of only fitful sleep, but there would be no chance of sleeping in for Harry that day. Today would mark the beginning of a long and arduous journey for him, for today Harry would begin chemotherapy.

Having already ignored the arrival of his breakfast, Harry was woken by a nurse - this nurse Harry recognised as Mary, an older lady, who had cared for him the day before.

"Good morning, Harry," Mary greeted him kindly. Quietly she moved about the room, checking and recording Harry's vital signs, as he located his glasses, and set the back of the bed semi-upright. "Not feeling like breakfast this morning?"

"'m not hungry," Harry mumbled sleepily - to wake up fully would make him all too aware that his first dose of chemotherapy would be starting soon.

"You should try to eat regular meals, Harry," Mary commented, tutting softly. "Is your lovely girlfriend going to come in today?"

"This afternoon, Ginny works in the mornings," Harry answered. "Her mum said that she might come by this morning."

"Well, that is good of her. Are you two close?" Mary asked conversationally, as she worked. Harry now noticed that the nurse had brought a large trolley, which was laden with medical supplies, and a portable IV pole, which had three bags of fluid hung from it, into the room with her. She moved the IV pole over to Harry's bedside.

"I guess so. Mrs Weasley is really good, I've known her a long time ...Ginny is my best mate's sister, so I spent a lot of time at their house during the summers." Uncomfortably Harry glanced to the central line sticking out of his chest, as Mary started to cleanse one of its ports. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm just preparing your line to start a saline infusion. Saline is basically salt water. We give it during treatment to ensure that you remain hydrated; it helps to flush the chemotheraputic drugs through your system."

"So after you do that, that's when the chemotherapy starts?"

"Yes, I'll start the cytarabine and daunorubicin infusions once the saline infusion has started. You'll be continuously on the cytarabine infusions for seven days, and you will have the daunorubicin each morning for the first three days. Okay?"

Harry faltered slightly at the thought, but covered it fairly well. "...When it starts, am I going to feel sick straight away? Or..."

"It varies, Harry. Before I leave, I will give you your morning tablets, which includes the ondansetron. You might not get sick at all," Mary said hopefully, double checking that the first line was running properly. "I'm going to set up the cytarabine infusion now," She explained, continuing her task. "What does Ginny do for work? You never actually answered me yesterday."

"...She um-" Damn Statute of Secrecy. "She plays sport. For her training is her job mostly," It wasn't a lie, just an omission of the complete truth, as technically Quidditch is a sport. Still, Harry didn't wish to encourage any further questions, so he swiftly changed the topic, "What are you doing now?"

"Now I am just connecting the second line," Mary answered. "Are you feeling alright so far? You're not feeling any pain or burning around your central line?"

"It just feels kind of cold."

"That's perfectly normal, Harry. The fluids are room temperature, so they can feel slightly cold when they go in. I'll bring an extra blanket in for you. If you do notice anything that concerns you, do not hesitate to use the buzzer to call for me." Satisfied that all drips were now flowing correctly, Mary placed a small cup containing two tablets, and a glass of water into Harry's hands. "Here are your morning tablets. You're written up for allopurinol and ondansetron. Once you've taken those, I'll let you rest. I can change the dressings on your line later."

* * *

9:30am June 29th, 2000

The second IV bags had just been started, and hung by Harry's bedside. So far Harry thought that he felt alright, considering. A soft knock at the open door alerted Harry of another person's presence.

Mrs Weasley walked uneasily into the hospital room, looking at every separate piece of muggle technology with a suspicious eye, and startling each time an alarm or other noise sounded around the ward.

Harry set down the ridiculous muggle gossip magazine he had been flicking through, and made a weak effort to make himself more presentable by straightening the blankets, and trying fruitlessly to flatten down his sleep askew hair. The buttons on his pajama top remained undone, leaving the line in his chest exposed. "Hello, Mrs Weasley. How are you?"

Harry's simple question drove away Molly's anxieties away instantly, as her motherly instincts went into overdrive. She came up to Harry's bedside, and embraced her future son-in-law - though her hug was noticeably more tentative than usual, as though Molly feared that she would acidentally hurt Harry. Not that Harry would admit it, but if Mrs Weasley had displayed her usual exuberance, he probably would have found it painful. "Harry dear, oh how are you? Are the muggles treating you well? Do you have everything you need? Here, let me fix your pillows for you. I did want to visit sooner, but we have had so much to do cleaning up after the wedding."

"It's fine, Mrs Weasley. I'm fine. They're taking good care of me ...speak of the devil-" Harry said lightly, as he noticed Angelina in the doorway. "Hey, Ang. Come in."  
Angelina stepped through the doorway, subtly pulling the door closed behind her. She made it no further before Molly had reached her - this embrace was exactly what Mrs Weasley was known for.

As far as Molly was concerned each of her children's partners were a part of her family; as long as she approved of them.

"Mrs Weasley, it's good to see you," Angelina spoke, accepting the embrace for a moment, before trying to disentangle herself. "How're you doing, Harry?" Angelina asked, checking the progress of the infusion. "It looks like you're going well. Did you get the anti-nausea medication already?"

"The nurse gave me some tablets earlier. I'm alright, so far," Harry answered, then asking his own question, "I have to stay on this for the next week, right?"

Having familiarized herself with Harry's treatment plan, Angelina told him, "Right. The cytarabine will continue twenty-three hours a day for seven days, but you'll only have the daunorubicin for the first three days." After glancing at Harry's chart, she queried, "Are you still having the bone pain? Dr Alonstone has prescribed morphine for you, but it doesn't look like you've had any as far as I can see here."

"...It's not so bad," Harry mumbled uncomfortably in response.

"You're in pain?!" Molly exclaimed, appalled. She looked to Angelina, "Is he not taking some kind of pain-reliever?"

"This isn't the time to be stoic, Harry," Angelina chided gently. "Your bones are hurting, because the cancerous cells in your bone marrow are putting pressure on them from the inside, Harry. The dosage of morphine you have been prescribed is quite low. It should just be enough to make you comfortable, and you can have a dose up to every four hours. I would recommend that you take it," Angelina said firmly. "I might ask Dr Alonstone if he can arrange a regular dose for you, if you will not ask for it. Maybe a PCA pump. I'll ask. Would you like me to have your nurse bring a dose in now? It is just injected into your central line."

Staring down at a loose thread in the blankets, picking at it absently, Harry nodded silently.

Angelina darted quickly out of the room to find Harry's nurse, probably to ensure that Harry didn't have a chance to change his mind, leaving Harry alone once again with Mrs Weasley.

The Weasley matriarch brought a chair to Harry's bedside, sitting down as she put her hand over Harry's in a comforting gesture. "...I might not know much about these muggle treatments, but surely if there is something that can help, then you should take it, dear. Why ever wouldn't you accept their medicines?"

Still averting his glance, Harry mumbled almost inaudibly, "Morphine can be really addictive, people can't stop taking it once they start. I don't want..."

As Harry trailed off, Molly was quick to counter the comment, "Many of the potions we use can be misused. Still we use them, because sometimes they are necessary. From what Angelina said, it sounds like you need this medicine, dear."

It was difficult to argue with logic, even when you felt well - something that Harry was realising he certainly did not - so as Mary and Angelina returned, Harry accepted the medication without complaint.

Staying only long enough to inject the pain-reliever, and check Harry's vital observations, Mary soon left them alone.

"Have you heard from Ron and Hermione at all, Mrs Weasley? They're still in ...France, right?"

"They are, dear-" Molly began to answer Angelina.

"You haven't told them about this-" Harry interrupted in alarm, motioning to their surroundings, "Have you?"

"No, dear. I have not, but you should."

"I will ...when they get back," Harry promised. There was no way that he was going to write to his best friends while they were on their honeymoon to tell them that he was in hospital - there would be more than enough time to deliver the bad news, but if they found out now, they would certainly cut short their vacation. "Oh," Harry murmured, thinking of his planned wedding gift. There was no chance that he would be able to give it personally when his friends returned. "I have asked Ginny to be at the Burrow when Ron and Hermione are due back. The house is finished, she is going to tell them about it."

"Alright, Harry. It is a wonderful thing you have done - I'm sure they will be very grateful."

* * *

10:30am June 29th, 2000

"Ginny! Pay attention, damn it!"

Midway through morning quidditch practice, Gwengog Jones, the captain of the Holyhead Harpies was getting increasingly frustrated with her youngest player.

First, Ginny had taken a day off from training with no notice, and ever since, she had been painfully – at times literally, due to several missed bludgers – distracted, and as sympathetic as her captain was to Ginny's situation, she was seriously considering benching the young chaser.

Another of her chasers, Jaina swooped low to collected the missed quaffle, before returning to formation. Jaina glared furiously at Ginny; she was not as understanding.

Gwengog heaved a heavy sigh, calling out, "That's it guys, ten minute break." She needed to have a talk with her up-and-coming, turned wayward, chaser.

Meeting Ginny as she touched down her firebolt deluxe onto the ground, Gwengog took Ginny by the elbow, and silently, yet quickly led her behind the training field's stands. Not a moment after they were out of view of their teammates, Gwengog spoke, "What was that out there? You missed a direct pass from five feet. I know that you are so much better than that."

"...I zoned out again."

"Yes. And it has to be the last time, Ginny."

"Sorry," Ginny said, sincerely remorseful. "Harry is having his first treatment today, my mum's going to sit with him, but-"

"Ginny, I know that you have a difficult situation at home presently, but if I can't count on you to give games and practices your full effort, then I would recommend that you voluntarily take a leave of absence. What do you say?"

"I'll get it together, I swear to it."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

**Please Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Harry Potter series or it's characters. This is purely for fun, and I am making no money from this story.**

**Thank you to each and every person who has read, put on alerts, favorited, or reviewed this fic so far!**

**I look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Previously:** "Ginny, I know that you have a difficult situation at home presently, but if I can't count on you to give games and practices your full effort, then I would recommend that you voluntarily take a leave of absence. What do you say?"

"I'll get it together, I swear to it."

* * *

Long after Mrs Weasley left, Angelina remained with Harry. They mostly just talked while Angelina worked through seemingly endless piles of charts and paperwork. Anything to distract Harry as powerful combination of chemotheraputic drugs took effect.

"You know, I always thought that you would go on the play professional quidditch, like Wood did..."

"Yeah, so did I," Angelina admitted. "But to cut a long story short, my dad wanted me to get a muggle education; he's a muggle you see. And I've always been interested in this sort of thing, so here we are. I wasn't surprised at all to here that you joined the aurors; you've always had a thing for saving people. Do you like working for DMLE?"

"I did," Harry replied with a sad acceptance.

"Did? What's with the past tense Potter?"

"I resigned. It's not like I'll be able to go back, not when my magic is this weak."

Angelina was taken aback by Harry's statement. "...Harry, your magic is weakened by the leukaemia and the chemotherapy, once your better, you'll probably be able to do everything you could before this happened."

"But would you want to be counting on my magic probably being okay if your family was in danger? I wouldn't. And I won't risk someone getting hurt because I couldn't cast properly."

"So what will you do?"

Harry knew that he could live a life of luxury, giving Ginny everything she could dream of, and it would hardly put a dent in his family's fortune. Not that this had ever been Harry's plan. Harry and Ginny had been living comfortably on their combined income, only drawing from the family vault on special occasions.

Truthfully Harry was so certain that he was not going to survive the cancer, he had given very little thought to what he would do if he did recover. But how could he tell Angelina that?

Thankfully he didn't have to, as Angelina seemed to understand perfectly. "You do still have a future, Harry. The statistics aren't brilliant, but you can still beat this, and move on with your life. Just remember that."

* * *

By late that afternoon, as Kim, another of the nurses handed Harry his evening tablets the side effects of the chemo were bordering on unbearable.

"I... um, I don't think I can- I'm not feeling so well." The tablets clattered as they hit the floor, and Harry bolted into the bathroom.

It was then that Harry realized just how fortunate he was that he had insisted that Ginny stay in Holyhead for a mock game. He didn't want her to see him like this, gripping the porcelain for dear life as his stomach clenched violently. Though this would become an all too familiar scene in the coming months.

"...Harry, you need a hand in there?" Kim called gently through the door, allowing him some privacy.

Harry stayed put, not even daring to open his mouth, until the nausea started to pass. Shakily, he got to his feet, splashing some water on his face before heading for the door.

"You okay, Harry?" Kim asked, putting an arm around him for support as she helped him back to bed.

Harry nodded stiffly, but remained silent, as he sank back into the bed.

"I'll speak to Dr Alonstone about changing your medications to injection form, alright? We might also need to give you more fluids through the central line to keep you hydrated."

* * *

Despite the doctors' efforts Harry continued to suffer the painful after effects of the chemotherapy, the only difference was now he had a continuous flow of saline running through his line, and regular doses of an anti-emetic and morphine through the central line.

* * *

4:30pm June 31st, 2000

Only three days into treatment, Harry's condition seemed to be worsening by the hour. He couldn't tolerate even water, and couldn't move without pain, his weight was dropping rapidly, as his body needed far greater nutrition than Harry could manage, he had just drifted off to sleep, when Ginny came in with their friends, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

Angelina had been sitting with Harry, monitoring him. Pressing a finger to her lips, she moved to the doorway to explain. "...You're welcome to stay, but it's best if he can rest for now. I'll be back to check on him soon," She finished, taking a moment to compose herself, before swiftly leaving the room.

The trio each took a seat at Harry's beside.

"It isn't just me, is it, he is getting thin, isn't he?" Ginny murmured sadly, tentatively running her fingers through Harry's jet black hair.

"It's not just you," Neville agreed.

"You are right, Neville. Harry does look rather too thin."

"I know," Ginny said, "I spoke to Angelina yesterday, they are considering putting in something called a feeding tube if he doesn't eat soon. I never thought I'd say this, but I wish that Snape was still alive. If there was a potion that would help Harry, he'd be the one to know about it."

Though they shared feelings of anger and resentment for their late professor, Luna and Neville nodded in agreement.

"What about Professor Slughorn? Maybe he could help."

Ginny was quick to shoot the suggestion down, "Slughorn's an old blowhard. Ron would've died that day in his office if Harry hadn't been there."

"What is a feeding tube, Ginny? I have never heard of it," Luna asked, as she gently took Harry's frail hand in hers.

"It's a piece of muggle medical equipment. Angelina told me that it is a rubber tube that gets inserted from the nose, down to the stomach. A nutritional liquid is fed in through a pump for a set length of time every day."

"That does not sound pleasant," Luna commented airly, covering her disgust far better than Neville, who now looked slightly ill.

"It isn't pleasant, but neither is starving to death, so they may need to do it."

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the trio's conversation, wakening Harry. Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway, her appearance noticeably disheveled.

Honestly Harry hadn't given much further thought to his career, other than to send his resignation letter to the department of magical law enforcement. So Minerva's visit caught him somewhat by surprise.

Harry hastily covered himself up with the blankets, and tried to regain some kind of composure, but frankly he didn't have the strength. While everyone else but Ginny stepped out of the room to give Harry privacy. "Professor, it's um... I wasn't expecting you."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Potter?" McGonagall asked, a note of hurt in her voice. "This is much more serious than I'd realized."

"It's not really as bad as it looks, a few months of treatment, and I'll be fine. You really didn't need to come."

"After everything that has happened Harry, how could I not?" McGonagall replied, taking a seat by Harry's bed. "Do you need anything? Anything at all."

Harry sat up a bit higher in the bed. "I'm alright, Professor."

Knowing the fallacy of Harry's statement, Ginny addressed their former professor, "I'm sorry professor, but if that's all, Harry needs his rest."

"Oh, of course, yes. I'm sorry to have disturbed you-"

"...I don't think I'll be able to take that teaching job after all, Professor," Harry said weakly, apologetically.

Minerva was clearly disappointed, but there really was little to discuss on the matter, for at the present time Harry could not cast so much as a lumos charm, even if he could have stood up in front of a class. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Just get well, and if there is anything I can do..."

"You'll be the first to know," Harry supplied, he then tried and failed to hide a yawn.

"I'll let you rest."

* * *

4:45pm July 1st, 2000

The very next day it was decided that Harry would definitely need a feeding tube, at least until he would again be able to eat and/or drink enough to maintain his weight without assistance, as Harry had already lost an alarming an alarming fifteen pounds from his already lean frame.

Angelina was just explaining how the feeding system worked to Harry, having just finished placing the tube, when Ginny came into the room, a worried expression on her face.

"Harry, how are-" Seeing the tube taped to Harry's cheek, Ginny faltered.

"Gin? You okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Oh, um... Yeah, I'm okay. I just needed to speak with you." Ginny sat down shakily, momentarily revealing her inner turmoil. "Gwengog pulled me aside again today, Harry. There was an accident during practice, Danni got hurt, I'm on probation."

"Why, what happened?" Harry asked urgently. How could an accident involving another player result in Ginny being reprimanded?

"I was distracted," Ginny answered shortly. "I might not be able to come here every day for a while. But only for four weeks, until my probation is over."

* * *

11:30am July 3rd, 2000

Content and relaxed, newlyweds Ron and Hermione Weasley returned to Ron's family home at the end of their honeymoon, apparating to just outside the wards, completing the short trip to the house on foot.

Despite her captain's warning, Ginny had taken another morning away from training, this time so as to fulfil Harry's request to give Ron and Hermione their wedding present from herself and Harry, and - in her mind, more importantly - to break the news for Harry's illness to his best friends. She had been anxiously pacing around the ground floor of The Burrow for over an hour, unable to sit still.

A sudden flurry of activity told Ginny that the wait was over, she steeled herself, before going into the kitchen to greet the newly married couple; knowing that the instant she told them of Harry's cancer, their happiness would be shattered.

"Ron, Hermione. Welcome home."

Ginny hugged her brother and sister-in-law in turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother leaving the room. Then, slipping a scroll of parchment from her pocket, and handing it to Hermione, she explained, "Harry's and my wedding present to you."

Hermione unfurled the parchment, and gasped in shock upon reading the first line 'Deed of Ownership - 12 Grimmauld Place, London'.

Reading over Hermione's shoulder, Ron's eyes grew wide in amazement, he then looked to his sister. "Ginny, this is... Thanks. But why isn't Harry here, shouldn't you guys give this to us when we're all together?"

Ginny successfully masked her inner turmoil, as she looked at the couple before her, and in a steady tone told them, "Harry became ill soon after you left, when a healer examined him, they found that he has leukaemia. He is in a hospital in London having treatment."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

**Please Review!**


End file.
